Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase three heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.

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Mike:

I went away to college, but ended up meeting a girl who lived a few towns over from me during my freshman year. She was a tiny chick with absolutely enormous cans, and for some reason she was into me. We had made out a couple times before Thanksgiving break and decided to go on a date when we went home for the long weekend. Date night arrives, and she desperately wants to see Brokeback Mountain. I balk at the idea, but she persuades me with, "I will give you 5 blowjobs if you take me to see this movie." Brokeback Mountain it is.

We see the movie (delightful!) and I decide to cash in on Blowjob #1 in my car while we parked in front of her house. She's bobbing up and down like a champ, and being the courteous young man that I was, I let her know that I'm about to come. Lightning quick she drops my johnson like a bad habit and I end up exploding all over my shirt. Like a massive, Peter North-style load. Shocked, we both just laugh, because what can you do at this point? I had to drive home without a shirt and sneak into my house so I didn't have to explain to my parents why I returned from a date with my polo in my hand.

Fast forward to our return to school. I had told my roommates about my sticky rendezvous because it was the most interesting thing I did over Thanksgiving break. A few days later, I call the girl up to redeem Blowjob #2. My roommates are getting ready to head down to the cafeteria when she shows up at my room. As they're leaving, one of them says, "Hey Mike, look out for your shirt this time, okay?"

She absolutely loses her mind. Starts yelling at me: "How could you tell them about that? You're a fucking pig. How dare you even joke about that kind of stuff?!?!?!" etc etc. She leaves in a huff, and I never cash in on one of her Brokeback hummers ever again.

She still comes up on my Facebook newsfeed every now and again. Turns out she's married and has a kid already. I wonder who does the laundry in that family....

JMM:

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I was finishing up college and dating a great gal who left for Graduate school in a different town. We had both worked at a restaurant staffed by the usual assortment of characters.

One server at the restaurant was Jennifer. She appeared very sweet and naïve, but I had heard plenty of stories about her exploits. As a matter of fact, one guy had dumped my girlfriend for Jenn because she put out more.

One night, the servers at the restaurant get together at someone's apartment. I proceed to drink a lot of beers, win at poker, and drink a lot more beer. Around 1:00 AM, a bunch of us end up in the hot tub. Everyone is relaxed and friendly, but I can tell Jenn is starting to look for companionship. She starts "accidentally" bumping my leg and her hand brushes my crotch a couple of times. Then, she loudly whispers that she wants to be with me tonight. In a matter of 2 seconds I weigh the options, knowing that most everyone in the hot tub knows my girlfriend versus all the kinky things I want to do with and to Jenn. The good guy on my shoulder drowns in one last gulp of beer and we start making out in the hot tub, in front of everyone. This only goes on for a few seconds before someone very high decides to join the party and cannonballs into the hot tub. Jennifer screams in pain. Apparently, he landed on her leg and it bent back on a step in the hot tub. She raises her leg and blood starts going everywhere and she obviously needs stitches.

So, I drive her to the ER and sit in the waiting room in wet swim trunks and t-shirt until her roommate arrives 2 hours later. After an awkward good-bye, I head for home, never to get that close to Jennifer again.

She had surgery on her knee, I soon quit the restaurant, and after some damage control, kept my girlfriend and now we are happily married.

AW:

It was New Years Eve 1997-8, I was 23 and a total fuck up on drugs and booze. For New Years my best buddy talked me into going up to a ski town in Northern Michigan named Boyne Highlands for some big shindig up there. So we drove the 4-5 hours from the Detroit area and went to the lodge where we hoped to crash. At the time my buddy was sleeping with some skanky girl a few years younger than us. Her and her 2 friends had rented a room in the ski lodge with 3 beds. My friend ensured me we didn't need a place to stay because he was crashing in his girl's bed and I had 2 chances to find a bed to share. I, like the young idiot I was, liked my odds.

So we go a party at the ski resort that night. It's one of those gala ball affairs that has a huge cover charge which includes a shitty buffet dinner, a few drink tickets, and a champagne toast. I proceed to get properly shitfaced drinking wine and tequila shots. A bunch of my friends from the Detroit area had also traveled up to this place for New Year's and were at this party. One of them, of course, had an 8 ball of coke and I traded him some pills or some weed (hard to remember) for access to his blow. So on top of the shitty booze combo I have, I am snorting up a storm every 15 minutes or so and—of course—this lowers my ability to realize the booze's effect. So by midnight I am completely a stumbling, bumbling mess. The midnight toast comes around and I somehow get my hand on not just a glass of champagne but a whole bottle. I am going around toasting everyone—young, old, tourist, and local—and making an ass out of myself by passing my bottle around and kissing everyone—guy and girl—for a Happy New Year's. I run into the least attractive of the girls sharing the room I am trying to insert myself into. I offer her a swig, she accepts it, I wish her a "Happy Fucking New Years!" and next thing we know we are sloppily making out. My cloudy decision making tells me this is the one I should concentrate on for a place to both get laid and, more importantly, a place to sleep. So we spend the next hour and a half doing shots and making out and I also disappear to the bathroom for a few more pick me ups. Finally, the party ends at 2 am and we stumble back to the hotel and into her room. At this point, my girl is almost as fucked up as me. Almost. But, as a pro, I am in much better shape. She is just a (not so) hot mess.

By the time we get to the room, my buddy and his girlfriend are there getting into bed. The other girl is there too. She was solo and I quickly got the vibe she was not exactly a fun loving person or happy about both her girlfriends shacked up. The whole room is just a total drunk tank, myself included. I ask my new lady friend if I can pass out and she says it's fine. Of course, as I start getting ready to share her single bed with her, she starts puking in the middle of the room. The solo roommate gets all pissed off and turns her angst to me, saying I fed her drinks (true), I was acting like an asshole all night at the party (truer), and I was only there because I wanted a place to pass out (truest).

I try to build up some good will by cleaning up with some towels and bottled water, get my lady friend on her bed—on her side with a garbage can next to her. All the while this other girl is berating me. My drunk ass buddy, by the way, is loving all this and is cracking up at the whole scene from the comfort of his bed. So here I am in this stuffy, pukey room with 4 other wastoids, I'm all drunk and coked up, getting yelled at by this girl (who totally has me pegged, btw). I decide the best thing for me to do at this minute is to take a walk outside and get some fresh air—actually to go outside and smoke a joint I have for coming down and helping me pass out. I step outside the room, outside the building and find a quiet area to smoke my weed. I end up running into some guys outside and smoke my joint with them and shoot the shit. Probably takes me 30 minutes.

I go back into the hotel. I knock on the door and no answer. I knock harder. And harder. Finally it opens with the deadbolt still chained and it's the bitchy girl. She informs me "my girl" is passed out and to "leave us the fuck alone". I plead with her that I have nowhere to go, I have nowhere to sleep. She tells me to fuck off, it's not her problem, and slams the door shut. I knock and knock and realize she must be the only one awake and isn't opening. These are pre-cell phone days so I can't call anyone I know or anything. I figure, hey, I ran into friends, I can find a place to pass out. 3am I am wandering around this place looking for people and it's a ghost town.

I stumble around the first floor, looking for people to beg for a room, looking for a place to quietly pass out. Something. I finally find my way into the bathroom near the indoor pool. Inside the bathroom is a steam room. The steam room has a bench! I take off my shirt and roll it up as a pillow and pass out on the bench at around 4 am. Horrible night of sleep, but better than in the car in the negative temps outside.

Around 7 am, the door to the steam room pops open and there is a Hispanic maid there to clean up the room. I am so zooted and tired and hungover I don't actually wake up to her opening the door, but what DOES wake me up is hearing the nice Hispanic lady running out of the room, screaming her Dios Mios and Praise Hey-Zeus's while running out of the room because some bloated white boy is dead in the steam room. I quickly jump up, throw my shirt on, disappear out of the steam room, run outside and get in the car. I start it up, get the heat going and watch as 3 police cars come flying in, lights flashing, assumingly looking for a dead white boy in the steam room. I pull the passenger seat all the way down and finally an hour or two later my buddy shows up, finds me in the car. We laugh the whole thing off and get the fuck out of that shit hole. I haven't been back to Northern Michigan since. What a horribl3, weird fucking night.